More Than A Memory
by Razzlephrat
Summary: “You should not need an explanation for these” she smiled at him, as he looked at one of the photos. “Do you need your memory walked, Tony?”
1. More Than A Memory

Author's Note: So this is my first NCIS fanfic and my first fanfic in a very, very long time. Concrit is greatly appreciated. Also, there's no significant spoilers, but it's set immediately after Inlaws and Outlaws, so I guess if you haven't seen it, maybe it's a little spoilerish, but mostly because you won't understand what's going on. And it's really a one shot, in two chapters because I think it would look too crowded and doesn't give you that "phoof" black and white feeling where I want you to.

Also, I don't own this show.

_Part I - Cheery Demeanor_

Ziva walked into the bullpen, coffee in hand, smile on her face and a little "pep" in her step. As she sat at her desk, she made no effort to make her usual small talk with Tony, delving straight into left over paperwork from yesterdays case instead. Her oddly cheery disposition and lack of socializing did not go unnoticed by Tony. He was genuinely surprised, as the evening before she'd left in a rather foul mood and she wasn't exactly the type to play coy; okay, maybe she was and maybe she was trained to do so but when Ziva David was pissed she made it known. In all honestly, she seemed happy. Genuinely happy, a happiness he had not seen since before...before Somalia, before he killed Michael, before Jenny died.

"Good morning, Ziva" McGee smiled, as he made his way across the bullpen and to his desk.

"Good morning, Tim." her demeanor also did not go unnoticed by McGee.

"You seem to be awfully cheerful this morning." he smiled, knowing her struggles but delighted that she seemed truly happy this morning.

"Yeah, '_Da-veed_'" Tony crossed his way to her desk. "What's up? Find a new toy in the cereal box?" She just glanced up at him momentarily, a somewhat questioning look on her face. "Hot date last night?"

"For your information, '_Dee-nozzo'_" she crossed her arms, leaning against her desk "it was not a date. I had dinner with Damon and he helped me study for my citizenship."

"Damon?" Tony asked, as if he were supposed to know immediately who this mysterious man was.

"Corporal Werth." McGee interjected.

Tony's eyes shot wide. "You mean Senor Roid Rage? Really Ziva?"

She sat almost stunned for a moment, his playfulness lately seemed almost catty, which was the precise reason she had been in such a poor mood last night and why she was also thankful that Damon had stopped by that night. And she was being completely honest, there was no date, just camaraderie and friendship without the false front of teasing and masking the dark with light.

"Yes, really, DiNozzo." She stood quickly, grabbing a file from her desk. "And his name is Damon, Tony. And sometimes it is nice to have a friend, too feel wanted, not like you are the next punchline in a bad joke." And with that, she headed toward Vance's office.

Tony and McGee sat, momentarily stunned into a stupor by her sudden anger.

By the time Tony's mind finally caught up with his body, he went after her and stopped her in the corridor beneath the stairs.

"Ziva," he started solemnly. She did not make an effort to turn around or acknowledge his presence.

"Zi." he spoke louder.

"What, DiNozzo?" she spoke through gritted teeth.

"What is goin' on with you, Zi? It was just a jo..." he realized he was just proving her point.

"A joke? No it's not. Everything is a joke to you, this, however, is not. Do you know what it is like to have no home? To essentially be exiled from your native country, where you grew up? The country in which you were trained to die for? To be sent on a mission, that would end in certain death, by the hand of your own father?" With each question, she minimized his personal space, backing him against the wall. "And to come to work, everyday, not sure if the only people you can place your trust in, actually trust you?"

He only met her eyes with a sorrowful look, unsure of what he could possibly say.

"No, Tony." she pressed a finger, hard, into his chest, her face mere inches from his, her breathing rapid and hot with anger. "You do not."

A year ago, Tony would have thought about kissing her, just to shut her up, the broken bones or bruises he would incur after would probably be better than the emotional beat down he'd just received. But now, he just thinks about if she'd allow him to move and just get close enough to hug her. To 'tousle her hair.' without frightening her or getting himself damn near killed. But he knew he couldn't right now and he knew that, for once, he actually had no words, no jokes, nothing. He just watched her in wonder as she stormed away from him and to the Director's office.


	2. Friends In Low Places

Part II - Friends In Low Places

The rest of the day was spent doing paper and other clerical work, in silence for the most part. It was nearly 7 P.M. and everyone else had gone home, Gibbs and Vance included. Only Ziva, the cleaning crew and few other stragglers, whom she did not know remained. Ziva had been staying late since her return from Somalia, not because she had actual work, but because she dreaded going 'home' to her new apartment. She'd never given much thought into the feeling of home, until about a year before her apartment exploded. And if she were being honest, feelings and Ziva David didn't really equate until then either. She had feelings, yes, but she knew, no thought, that her life served a higher purpose of protecting Israel and all that it meant at the expense of her own happiness. So, home? That did not exist, housing did. People did. Tangible items did, but they did not mean anything, not until they were gone. But now, she desperately clung to the feeling of what it used to feel like and how it lacked that luster now. She had lost nearly everything she'd accumulated in her four years as an NCIS agent in the explosion and what had been salvaged was shipped with her back to Israel when she had returned with Michael's body. But now, the office provided a distraction, from the loneliness, abandonment and thoughts of Somalia, from everything. But she couldn't avoid these new emotions forever.  
And almost as if it were on cue, she was snapped out of her reverie by the vibration of her cell phone. Opening it, she considered not bothering to open the text message that had been sent from Tony, but her curiosity got to the best of her.

'Z- NYN 911, UR APT.'

With that, she grabbed her gun and bag and ran to her car as quickly as possible.

Within ten minutes, she had arrived at the building, no small feat in D.C.'s seemingly endless rush hour. As she made her way to the steps, she saw Tony, sitting somewhat calmly on the steps. Not what she had anticipated upon receiving his distressed message.

"What the hell? What is the emergency?"

He looked up, knowing she very well may injure him for this stunt.

"Can we just go up to your apartment?"

She stood before him, wary eyed and wordless, wondering just what the hell was wrong with him.

"Do you know how many laws I broke getting here?" She fumed.

"Twenty-two?" he guessed. "Can we please just go to your apartment?"

Sensing the odd urgency in his voice, she gave in and followed him.

"There had better be masked gunmen in there, DiNozzo." She said, unlocking her door.

"Or blood, or Gi..." she stopped, astounded by what she saw.

And no, there were no gunmen, not even weapons, other than her own assortment, no monsters, no bad guys. It was her home, decorated warmly with photographs, some she did not know existed. Her cedar chest that had survived the explosion was at the center of her living room, a make shift coffee table in front of a small olive green love seat and a new plasma television, surrounded by new furniture, a patented "Welcome Home" banner signed by her new family. And wait, cedar chest? What the hell?

"What? Tony, how, how did you do this?"

"It's a welcome home...thing. Not so much a celebration." He gave her a small smile and hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder, a grand gesture, given the past few months. "How? Well I told your landlord I was your husband and I locked myself out. She even made me a new key!" he said excitedly, brandishing the shiny object from his pocket. "You really should consider better security, by the way. I was surprised you hadn't already had the place booby trapped." he gave her a whirlwind of information, temporarily distracting her from everything. "And I didn't do this alone. Well, this set up, I did but the buying the gifts, everyone helped. We planned on a surprise party but weren't sure...short story, you needed this now, so welcome back, Ziva."

"I have not had time to set up these 'booty traps''" she said, not missing a beat. "And I mean, how did you get my stuff?" She kneeled next to the chest, opening it.

"Well," he took a seat, cross legged next to her "you're not the only one with connections in foreign intelligence agencies."

He smiled, watching the elation spread across her face as she pulled a small purple throw, a photo album and a book from the chest.

"I know, but I also know that YOU do not have any connections in Mossad, other than my father and myself."

"I don't." He shook his head. "But Gibbs and Vance do.

He leaned in, as she opened the photo album, running her fingers across the images.

"Who is that?" Tony asked, pointing to a picture of a young girl, with unruly curly hair, who looked about six or seven, she was grinning, as the boy next to her had his hand threaded in her curls, he had a pained look on his face, causing Tony to giggle a bit realizing that the young girl had her heel digging into the boys foot.

"That is Aadil and myself," she smiled, vaguely recalling the memory. "He was a Muslim family friend."

She spent a good part of the next hour showing Tony the album, answering "who's who?" and telling the memories behind the images.

He was genuinely surprised she'd kept such a scrap book, she never seemed to be the sentimental type.

"And the rest do not need explanations of who, where and what." She smiled, attempting to shut the album, unsuccessfully as Tony stopped her.

He was surprised more by the last few pages of her album, more so than the fact that she had the album at all. There were photos of her and Abby, he and Abby, he and Ziva, McGee, Gibbs, Ducky, Jenny, even Palmer and Vance! Actually, there were a lot of he and Ziva, he didn't even remember a good portion of them being taken.

"You should not need any explanation of these." Taking in his confused look, she asked: "Do you need your memory walked, Tony?"

"Not at all." He laughed, then looked at her, seriously for a moment. "Welcome home, Ziva." he reached over and wrapped an arm around her, as she still held the album and gave her a hug with no apprehension or fear.


End file.
